So I was sent in, because my specialty is romance, like James, only on the opposite end of the spectrum. He is (supposedly) the good boy a good girl can build a life with, and I am the bad boy those good girls hope to tame, (supposedly) exciting. I can show them the time of their lives.
At first, Ten wanted nothing to do with me. Not exactly a new experience. Many others have rejected me, too. Then, she softened toward me. How? I must know! But the specifics remain a blank.
Why does it matter? In the end, she rejected me, choosing Troika.
As she softened toward me, I softened toward her. I must have despaired, knowing I’d lost her. Wrong. Knowing I’d never truly won her.
I can’t have Ten and my position in Myriad. One will always endanger the other.
She made her choice, leaving me in the dust. After our bonding, I had to do the same.
Ten moans, as if she’s in pain, and my attention zooms to her. She’s surrounded by darkness. My shadows didn’t run away to hide. No, they zoomed along the bridge, entering her mind…strengthening the darkness already writhing inside her. She’s fighting, but she’s losing, growing weaker.
Protective instincts surge, and I curse. This girl and her memories have me twisted up. I make a decision, or think I do, and emotion rises up to change my mind.
Emotion—or trust?
I don’t know, I can’t tell. Up is down and down is up. If the shadows overtake her, I will win. Her Myriad side will take over. Maybe. Probably. She’ll do what I considered impossible and betray Troika. Hopefully.
No, no, not hopefully. I like her, just as she is. I don’t want to change her. She’s—
Boom!
My eyelids spring open as the door to the rented room bursts at the hinges. Zhi Chen looms in the entryway, a Dazer in hand. Dark hair. Pale skin with a slight golden tint. Behind him are three men—that I can see. Knowing my Leader, I’m sure many others surround the building.
I stagger to my feet while shoving Ten on to the bed behind me, using my body as a shield. A sense of urgency bombards me. Get rid of them. Now. I need more time. I’m not ready to part with Ten.
She splays across the mattress, her eyes closed, her hands pressed over her ears. Little whimpers escape her.
“Go,” I shout, but of course, Zhi remains in place. He’s a Leader, my superior.
“We’re here for the girl.” His smile reminds me of Dr. Vans’s. Cold. Cruel. “But don’t worry, Mr. Flynn. You’ll be coming with us. We’d like to…chat with you, too.”
My hands fist, the bones so taut I fear my knuckles will cut through my skin. “The Troikans call me the Butcher, Mr. Chen. Do no’ make me show you why.”
He pales but remains in place. “You are outnumbered and outgunned.”
I could beg for mercy—but I won’t. Zhi knows nothing about my past. Few do. Before Archer’s defection, he erased details about the abuse I endured from my files. As a beloved son of the Secondking, he had access to every building in every city, and no one dared question his actions.
At the time, I thought he had my back. He was the only friend I trusted. When he left, I figured the action was a parting gift, and I hated him all the more. He’d known he was leaving, but hadn’t talked to me or warned me.
For years I wondered how Archer could give up glorious freedom in exchange for the stifling rules found in Troika. I even asked him once, when he attempted to recruit me.
I desire the trust of my brethren more than the adoration of my father’s people.
At the time, I considered him a fool. Now…
“Take us tae Ambrosine, then,” I demand. I’ll speak with the king directly. After everything I’ve done for Myriad, he’ll agree to place Ten in my care. He must.
Zhi’s smile only widens. “Who do you think ordered us to take her in early?”
My heart drops into my stomach. No. Absolutely not. But…
I know as well as anyone that the Secondking will do anything, betray anyone, to defeat Troika.
As Ten says, we reap what we sow. I sowed betrayal, so, I’m reaping betrayal. This is my fault in more ways than one.
“If she’s hurt…” I stealthily reach for the dagger hidden in the waist of my jeans.
“Oh, she’ll be hurt, and so will you.” Zhi squeezes the trigger on the Dazer. “That is the only guarantee I can give you.”
chapter fifteen
“If you do not work, you do not eat.”
—Troika
Ten
Voices. Strange noises. Huffs and puffs. Grunts. One thud after another.
Fighting?
I pry open heavy eyelids. My vision is hazy. I think I see Killian dodge a stream of Dazer fire as he lunges at a group of soldiers. Intruders! He uses his wrist cuffs to disarm two men. Not just to disarm, but to arm himself. The hooks at the ends of the wires latch on to the weapons and fling them in Killian’s direction. He catches both and fires.
Pop, pop, pop. Pop, pop.
Men bellow with agony.
Why would Killian need the soldiers’ weapons when he has ours?
Unless ours do not work…
Darkness envelops me, pain sears me and I lose track of my surroundings. My fault. I gave my Light—my strength— to Killian, and took some of his shadows. Only wanted to set him free.
His life has been a series of tragedies, and I hoped to give him peace. I want better for him—and I’ll be better for him, even if it destroys me.
He comes first. Love comes first.
Darkness will not win.
Except, the shadows in my mind are thicker than before and only growing. Old resentments flare, no longer content to remain hidden, blending with a fresh surge of rage.
Killian betrayed me. With his shadows come more and more of his secrets. After our shower, he messaged his Leader, thinking he would win me over, convince me that there’s no better place to live than Myriad. Zhi Chen promised to send someone to follow and “protect” us. What a joke. As if the powers that be would ever accept me. All along, they planned to hurt and use me.
Still, a part of me refuses to fault him for doing what he thinks is right, what is best for his people, and the realization makes me flinch. I’m Kayla, I realize. I thought myself different, thought my love stronger and my man nobler. Wrong! Killian taught me better.
Luciana said Myriadians go crazy after a bond, and Troikans suffer later. Now I get it. Because of Killian’s actions, I’m going to suffer. I am suffering.
If there’s a reason for his memory loss, there’s a reason for this. What am I supposed to learn? How to forgive? I can do that. To trust him, anyway? I can’t.
No, you won’t. Trust is a choice, like love.
Fool! Look where love takes you.
Stop! What’s done is done. Anger will lead me down the wrong path. I’ll rant and rave, and do nothing but convince Killian that he made the right decision, choosing his realm over me.
Punish them all. Make them beg for mercy.
A command from my deepest, darkest instincts. A desire to get even with the people who betrayed me. Tit for tat. I did nothing wrong, and yet I suffer. A tormentor deserves to suffer a thousand times worse than his victims, yes? Problem is, these instincts aren’t always right. Fruit that grows on a poisoned tree is poison. If I give tit for tat, I’m no better than the one who hurt me. Actually, I’m worse. I’m a hypocrite.
And really, blame can be laid at my door, too. Sow, reap. Once, I put Troika first, Killian second. Today, Killian put Myriad first, me second.
The best response? Resist rage. Look beyond the moment to the eternal.
What future do I desire? One with Killian, or without?
1 + 0 = 1
1 + 1 = 2
There are two sides to every story. The positive and the negative. Some people say there’s a third side. Neutral. But neutral isn’t a side—it’s an excuse.
Pain explodes through my head, disrupting my musings, drawing me back into the present. Killian hisses, exp
eriencing the same explosion of pain. Perhaps he is the cause?
Then I’m floating, the softness of the mattress no longer supporting me. No, not floating. I’m…being carried? A heart beats against my temple, and an unfamiliar scent envelopes me—grapes not yet completely fermented into wine. Not unpleasant, but not welcome, either.
My darker side loves it, has never smelled anything sweeter.
“—to Killian?” a male voice says, catching my attention.
“He took out sixteen of my men before we were able to subdue him. He should be headed for the Kennels, and soon he will be. After our interrogation of the girl.”
There are sixteen ounces in a pound.
Abraham Lincoln was the sixteenth president of the United States, and he led during the Civil War.
Sixteen is the atomic number of sulfur.
Why did Killian fight his own countrymen? To safeguard me?
A trick. Only a trick.
Or my seduction worked, and Killian is beginning to trust me.
Too late.
“She’s to be interrogated? Nothing more?” the male asks.
“Of course there’s something more. We’ve never had a Troikan inside Myriad. We’ll be running tests on both of the Flynns. Ah, but I love the sounds of screaming. Music to my ears.” A chuckle of genuine amusement.
“She’s only half Troikan, and we have run tests on others like her.”
“Wrong. While we’ve run tests on Amalgams, we’ve never before had a Conduit in our midst. Which is why our new Abrogate is going to try to push our darkness through Miss Lockwood’s Grid. If the darkness is able to invade Troika, the citizens will be weakened. If the darkness spreads and surrounds the realm, even better. We’ll be able to enter just as Killian did.”
Information hits me one bomb at a time.
Amalgams. Is that what inter-realm bonded couples are called?
New Abrogate. Definitely Javier Diez.
I can’t let him do what is planned. Interrogation, torture, sure, I can endure. I have before. But not the destruction of my home.
The two sides of me war, just like the realms.
The people of Troika do not love you. The Generals blackmailed you. Face it. You are hated, and now that your Light is partially extinguished, you are no longer needed or wanted. Why defend them?
You don’t need to be loved by others to do what’s right for them. Resist, and the darkness will flee. It must.
Then Killian’s voice joins the deluge. —I’m sorry.—
—Sorry doesn’t change our current circumstances. You aren’t the man I thought you were.— The words slip from me, unbidden, my dark side striking out.
He flinches. —I’m better.—
—Hardly. You lied to me.—
He cuts me off. —I know I’m nothin’ like your precious Archer.—
Jealousy? Now of all times?
Doesn’t matter. Through sheer grit and determination, I listen to my Troikan side and resist the darkness. Anger, hurt and worry will only strengthen the shadows. Deep breath in, out. Happy thoughts. The end of the war. A peaceful future for Jeremy. No more friends dying too soon.
Good, that’s good. I begin to calm, and the darkness begins to fade.
I suspect I haven’t seen the last of anger, hurt and worry, but for now, they’re hiding again, and I’m centered. Learn from misfortune and move on.
I focus on Killian. —I’ve never desired Archer. He’s my brother, and you’re my…— What?
Doesn’t matter. Logic over emotion. Escape with Killian. Enter Many Ends. Save…everyone.
I’m tossed on to a cold, hard floor. Impact knocks my brain against my skull. Next, a storm of ice water splashes over me, and I gasp, sputter. My eyelids break apart, and I meet the gaze of the man I know is Zhi Chen. He is dark from head to toe, with a lean body barely strong enough to carry me however far we traveled.
Beside him stands a Shell. Masculine, rugged. Blond with the same nearly translucent skin of the Secondking and glittering green eyes. A face so beautiful that both females and males, young and old, have fallen for him. And killed for him.
I know those eyes. Here is Victor Prince, Archer’s younger brother.
He likes to pretend he’s some kind of angel. I know he’s fallen.
Though he’s not pretending today, is he? He’s too busy glaring daggers at me.
I don’t have to wonder why he’s in a Shell. During our last encounter, he tried to force me to bond with him the way I willingly bonded with Killian, and when I refused, he then attempted to kill me. I cut off his hands, and they have not yet grown back. In the Shell, he can at least pretend to be whole.
“Oh, but the mighty have toppled,” he says, his tone smug.
I’m barely able to move, my strength depleted, my Light gone, but still I blow him a kiss, taunting him. Take your anger out on me, not Killian. Although, hello, we’re bonded. What happens to me happens to him. Double zero. “At least…you know…I’m mighty.”
Victor decides to humor me. With a hiss of rage, he moves toward me. The guy beside him holds out an arm, stopping him.
That guy—Javier Diez. The enemy. He is an Abrogate, my total opposite. I supercharge in the Light while he supercharges in the dark. I can push Light into others; he can tamp it out and create shadows from nothing but air.
Although, with my dual citizenship, I wonder if I can transition from Conduit…to Abrogate. Scratch that. I’m certain I can. The knowledge rises up inside me, temptation wrapped in persuasion and sprinkled with enticement. I have only to embrace the shadows hiding in my mind. Then I can use Javier’s powers against him. Shadow versus shadow.
Will be so easy…
Steel fuses to my spine, squaring my shoulders and lifting my head; the position of a soldier who refuses to back down. Easy doesn’t mean right. How can I utilize darkness, then turn around and condemn Ambrosine and his followers for doing the same? How can I create darkness, stealing Light from my friends? Hurting my friends?
No! There’s another way. A better way. The Light way.
What do I know about Javier? Kayla once called him the quintessential dreamboat. He’s tall, with a golden tan, and handsome. But to me, he’s the embodiment of evil. He gets off on the misery he inflicts. Death and destruction are his constant companions, and selfish is the name of his game. So, dreamboat or not, I’m not a fan.
Before Javier’s Firstdeath, I received a small taste of his powers. He might as well have been a needle, and me a balloon. One moment I was strong, the next I was weak. Now that he’s a spirit, we’re on equal ground.
He’s cocky, and he’ll underestimate me.
I can take full advantage.
Determination tramples any lingering fear, but not by word or deed do I betray my newfound fight. Let him see me as weak. Let him act accordingly.
Javier extends one finger, only one, and not the middle one. Surprise surprise. I think he’s creating shadows. Yes. Oh, yes. Dread attempts an invasion as shadows seep from the ceiling and floor; they slither toward me and wrap around my wrists and ankles. Ice-cold. I gasp.
A second later, I’m yanked upright, my limbs stretched out as if I’m on a rack. My gaze is suddenly eye level with Javier’s. He’s smiling a smile as frigid as his shadows.
“As you might have deduced,” he says, his tone even smugger than before, “I’m learning to use my gifts.”
He expects me to cower. Keep dreaming. “Aw. You’re going to make such a good puppet for your realm.” Speaking while panting proves a challenge, but I manage it.
Rage contorts his features.
To prove he means nothing to me—less than nothing—I mentally dismiss him and scan the room. Between Zhi and Victor is a large dog crate—
Horror slaps me. Killian is locked inside the crate. He’s on his knees, the diameters of the walls not allowing him to stand, and he’s wearing an expression of pure boredom.
This is where betrayal leads you. Happy?
&nbs
p; “I’m sure you remember when you cleansed Dior Nichols of Penumbra.” Zhi is as smug and superior as a king. “Now Javier is going to cleanse you of Light, and you’re going to help him. Let him into your Grid. Anytime you resist, Mr. Flynn will be… Well, there’s no kind way to say this. He’ll be deep-fried. Meaning you, too, will be deep-fried.”
Deep breath in, out. I need help, can’t do this on my own.
Desperate, I reach out to Archer through the Grid. Considering Raanan is an Architect, I reach out to him, as well. And the Conduits. The princess. And Biscuit. Clay. Deacon. Reed. Clementine. Kayla. Someone has to hear me, despite the distance between us.
One second, two. Three. Radio silence remains.
Zhi arches a brow. “Nothing to say, Miss Lockwood?”
My panicked gaze swings back to Killian. He’s gripping the bars of his cage, his knuckles white, his calm slipping away.
Slap! Javier’s palm makes contact with my cheek. The pain is sharp but fleeting as my head whips to the side. Lifeblood leaks from the corner of my mouth.
“Do yourself a favor, Miss Lockwood.” Zhi tugs at the cuff of his shirt. “Pay attention.”
Rage detonates along my bond to Killian—and it’s not mine.
“Hitting girls now, Diez?” Killian tsks. He appears even calmer than before. So calm it’s almost scary. “And bound girls who can’t fight back, at that. Your bravery is inspiring.”
“Keep talking. Please.” Javier peers over his shoulder and smiles slowly. Then, still watching Killian, he slaps me harder. “Ten is the one who will pay for your crimes.”
“You consider truth a crime?” I laugh. “I don’t know why I’m shocked. The truth is, you’re pathetic in every way. You’re a coward with—”
His arm lashes out a third time. Third time is the charm. Rather than delivering a slap, he balls up his hand and punches me. Stars explode in my vision. My teeth cut my cheeks, and agony sears my mouth.
Everlife (An Everlife Novel) Page 21
